WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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Chapter 111: Hanga Mogok Orphanage (3)
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As classes continued in the classrooms, the number of children taken in by the orphanage kept growing.
“Sajang! We brought in another batch of little beggars! We got a report that they were under that bridge, Soyang Bridge or whatever, which is nearly finished, so we rushed over and rounded them up!”
“Well done, Chief! Baechil, prepare some water for washing! Gomchi, count heads!”
Through Han’s Myriad Commerce’s [street-cleanup initiative], every unaccompanied child found in the Chuncheon area was sent straight to Han’s Mogok Orphanage.
An ordinary orphanage of the era might have crammed them into dormitories and classrooms as they arrived, but Han San had lived through both the period immediately after liberation and the aftermath of the war.
He knew all too well that running things by the seat of one’s pants would make a mess of both headcounts and education.
That was why the orphans gathered at the distribution hub known as Han’s Mogok Orphanage underwent the following packaging process.
Stage 1. Humanization.
Do not relieve yourself in the street. Use utensils when eating. Go to bed at a set time and wake at a set time. It was a process of teaching the basic things a person needed to live in society.
Former thugs like Gomchi did an excellent job in their roles.
“Hey, you little punks! When you see an adult!?”
The children in Stage 1 answered in booming voices.
“Bow our heads and greet them!”
“Before eating!?”
“Wash our hands!”
“When we come back from outside!?”
“Wash our hands, feet, and faces, then put our shoes away properly!”
It was the teachers’ job to patiently explain why they had to do those things. Stage 1 ended with the children memorizing the rules and following them without question.
Stage 2. Socialization.
Once they had begun to look like people, the real work of making them into people began. By this stage, the market merchants around Hongcheon, where the orphanage stood, were the first to notice.
“Huh? Aren’t you the kid who used to sleep behind my shop every day?”
“Hello, sir! I was very rude back then!”
“Well, would you look at that? You know how to greet people now?”
Begging, pickpocketing, and theft, which had given the merchants such headaches, visibly decreased.
Whenever something did happen, intimidating-looking men led the ringleader over, then knelt down together with the child.
“We’re sorry, Sajang! One of our Han family’s children has caused trouble for your household!”
“I’m sorry...”
The merchants all looked bewildered at such apologies. Some laughed and waved them off.
“Ah, forget it. It was just kids being kids.”
“That’s right. They used to be like a swarm of monkeys and gnats, but after getting them washed and dressed, you can see they’re children after all. You really can.”
Others, though, widened their eyes.
“No! What good is saying you’re sorry!?”
“You need to take proper responsibility!”
Of course, Han San was not someone who shirked responsibility.
“Why, of course. It isn’t much, but this is compensation for the damage one of our children caused your household! Our chairman is deeply sorry, so please accept it!”
Even those wide eyes had no choice but to return to normal.
“Hm? Ah... Well, if that’s the case... Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Since compensation was always paid without exception, the merchants felt as if an aching tooth had finally been pulled.
“Goodness. That’s where Mogok School used to be, right? They said the headmaster was a famous man. Looks like he’s living up to his reputation.”
“The headmaster is one thing, but I hear that young sajang named Han San, the one funding that charity work, is quite something. You know how people say there’s no point going to Chuncheon these days if you don’t eat dakgalbi and chicken? They say that young man invented both of them.”
“Really?”
“Of course. The military police, the Special Higher Police, all those sorts love that dakgalbi and chicken. The police constables used to raid Mogok School and slap closure notices on it, you know. They say that young sajang settled the whole thing himself and got them out.”
“No, really!?”
“I’m telling you, it’s true! I actually saw that sajang on the street! He was walking along, talking right beside some terrifying military police officer wearing an eyepatch. They must be awfully close!”
“Now I get it! No wonder those stubborn little brats can’t put up a fight!”
“That young Joseon man is impressive. There’s a reason successful people succeed.”
“Dakgalbi, huh? Chuncheon is right next door. I should go try it sometime.”
The social branding effect inherent to charitable work, which raised the reputation of Han San and Han’s Myriad Commerce, also began to show itself at this stage.
By then, the children could be said to have been socialized to a certain degree.
Stage 3. Individualization.
There was one process every child deemed to have passed socialization had to undergo.
Gomchi gathered the children who had just entered Stage 3 and gave them a long lecture.
“Finger? Halibut? Trout? And you, Jaw, always lunging at Earthworm Face! You little idiots, are those names for people? I’ve been called Gomchi since I was little because my face is all pockmarked like this. I’ve been called that my whole life, so I’m used to it. But you’re still young! How long are you going to keep calling each other and being called things like that!?”
The children, who had called one another whatever came to mind, were formally given names.
“You look like you need to learn the words of Confucius, so you’re Confucius! You should listen to the words of Mencius, so you’re Mencius! And you... you look like you need Jesus’s protection, so you’re Jesus!”
Gomchi had intended to conveniently give them all the surname Kim, but Han San stopped him.
“Come on, why Kim? How many Kims do we even have here? If we’re giving them surnames, let’s make it Han.”
Gomchi blinked.
“Wait, Sajang, your family name? Wouldn’t it bring bad luck on your household if little beggars used Sajang’s family name...?”
“What are you talking about? I don’t believe in that kind of superstition. I got Father’s permission when I went home last time. And where are we? This is Han’s Mogok Orphanage, isn’t it? Do you think it’s called Han’s because things are quiet around here? It’s Han’s because it belongs to the Han family. Everyone will be Han.”
That was how the children received names such as Han Confucius, Han Mencius, and Han Jesus.
The children loved it.
“They say our surname is the same as that mister’s!”
“What do you mean, mister? Call him hyeong-ssi!”
“Hyeong-ssi is rude! It should be hyungnim! We’re all his younger siblings!”
The children excitedly chattered away, and the traces of being beggars slowly began to fade not only from their faces, but from their hearts as well.
That brought Stage 3 to an end.
Stage 4. Specialization.
“From now on, you lot get lessons too!”
Only after completing all three earlier stages were they finally given the right to enter a classroom. That was when they went through Han San’s uniquely brutal curriculum.
“I’m fine, thank you!”
“Use your glutes, not your back!”
“One! Do not eat mushrooms you don’t know!”
At this point, children who stood out in particular fields began to appear one by one.
“Eight times eight is sixty-four! Eight times nine is seventy-two!”
“I got it nice and straight!”
“You are already sliced...”
Han Confucius showed more talent in arithmetic than public morality. Han Mencius proved more gifted at planing wood than listening to Mencius’s words. Han Jesus became more devout before a cutting board in cooking class than before a cross.
There was no end to Stage 4. It simply continued until the children found their aptitudes, left the orphanage, and could earn their own living.
It was like continuing product development until a ready-made life found its buyer.
Still, no matter how much he spoke of distribution, packaging processes, and product development, one problem remained. Humans were not goods.
Stage 4.5. Psychological Support.
Among the first class of Han’s Mogok Orphanage was a girl named Han Su-jeong.
“That’s my seat.”
She had been given the name Su-jeong because her eyes were as clear and spotless as crystal, but her blank expression and clipped way of speaking swallowed up every bit of the cuteness she had been born with.
Gomchi glared.
“Hey, punk! How many times do I have to tell you? You say, ‘That is my seat!’”
“Loud voice, troublesome.”
“Good grief... Sajang. When you gather a bunch of children with no parents, sometimes a real nutcase like this turns up. Please understand.”
Han San understood, of course. He had lived through the periods after liberation and the war.
Gomchi patted Su-jeong’s head with his palm as he spoke.
“This kid’s quite a nutcase, but she’s really smart! Headmaster Namgung Eok praised her to the skies this time, didn’t he? Hey, Su-jeong. Say some of that English or whatever it is.”
“What English?”
“Anything! Translate everything I just said into English!”
Su-jeong blinked, then quietly looked up at Han San. Her small lips opened.
“I am truly grateful for this opportunity. Thank you for bringing me here and guiding me. I look forward to your continued guidance.”
Even Han San had to blink at that.
Gomchi grinned and patted Su-jeong’s head again.
“What do you think? Sounds pretty convincing, doesn’t it? I don’t know the language of those Western bastards, so I’ve no idea what this kid is saying, but still! Just listen to her rattle it off!”
Su-jeong calmly pushed Gomchi’s hand away.
“Hitting head, troublesome.”
“Hey, kid! I’m not hitting you! This is an expression of affection!”
Han San smiled at the sight of the two bickering.
He remembered this kid. He crouched down to meet her eyes and asked, “You were one of the kids who came at me in that back alley, weren’t you? Chanting some spell called Baek Seon-eung or something.”
She had been the fiercest of them.
Who would have thought that the vicious child who had clutched a rusty piece of iron and gone straight for his ankle tendons would change like this?
Su-jeong bowed her tiny head.
“I’m sorry, about then.”
“What?” Han San burst into laughter and tousled her hair. “What a cheeky thing to say, kid. Forget it.”
“Mm.”
“Mm, what? Anyway, you’re good at English. You’ve got promise.”
“Very, grateful.”
“Your pronunciation seems a bit lacking, though. Listen to my pronunciation. Opportu-ni-tee. Gui-dance.”
“Extremely insulting.”
Judging by the strange things she said, she still had plenty left to learn.
Just before returning to the classroom, Su-jeong bowed her head once more.
“I’m really sorry, about then.”
“I told you to forget it.”
Han San genuinely did not care. The bad ones were the Baekbaekgyo followers who had used the little beggars.
But not everyone could separate blame as cleanly as Han San did.
That was especially true for the eight children involved, Su-jeong most of all.
“I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry...”
Several days later, one night, Han San and Gomchi were making their rounds of the orphanage when they saw Su-jeong muttering in her sleep beneath her blanket.
Gomchi glanced at Han San and explained.
“She does this every night. The children who came with her whimper sometimes too, but Su-jeong especially...”
“Tch.”
Han San clicked his tongue. He had an idea why.
According to what he had heard from Tendo, Sawada’s adjutant, the eight children who had attacked him in the alley had been chosen from different groups of beggar children. They had gone through [selection].
And what could [selection] possibly mean when it came from people like Baekbaekgyo?
How else could Su-jeong have become so practiced at lunging at people and stabbing them?
When she had been nothing more than a beast wearing a human face, she had not needed to think. But now that she had received a name, been educated, and finally become human, the smarter children found it harder to escape the hell in their hearts.
“Up we go.”
Han San carried Su-jeong on his back.
Quietly, so she would not wake. Like carrying a sleeping cat.
“Sajang...”
“Shh. You’ll wake her.”
He carried her outside and began walking around the orphanage yard.
“Mmm...”
It was already past mid-November. The night air in Mogok was cold.
But the young hunter’s back was warm as a blazing stove, and Su-jeong only flinched slightly without waking.
After they had gone around two or three times, her murmurs of I’m sorry, I’m sorry stopped, leaving only the soft sound of her breathing.
Han San laid Su-jeong back in bed before coming out. Gomchi did not hold back his admiration.
“Goodness, Sajang. You’re even good at looking after children?”
“You know I have a younger brother.”
“The little young master in your household? Ha ha, so Sebeom Valley’s janggi king is unexpectedly the sort of child who needs looking after?”
“A little.”
To be precise, it had happened in his previous life.
After the Great Flood of the Gap-sul Year, he had raised young Bada by himself and spent a great deal of time carrying him on his back and comforting him. Compared to those days, this was nothing.
“Anyway, I suppose the orphanage project is on track now!”
“On track? Sajang’s name will be known far and wide at this rate.”
And so.
The Chuncheon street-cleanup initiative that Baekbaekgyo had formerly handled was now operated smoothly by Han’s Mogok Orphanage under Han’s Myriad Commerce.
This was the full story behind what the Chuncheon military police operations chief had meant when he told Yi Gyeong-deuk, “Someone else has taken it over.”
And then.
“Sajang. Something came for you.”
An invitation arrived for the sajang of Han’s Myriad Commerce, who had expanded into charity work, opened the two hottest restaurants in Chuncheon, and been the first to report Baekbaekgyo’s crimes.
[ You are invited to the Soyang Bridge completion ceremony. ]
It was already the heart of winter.
The date was mid-December 1933.
Footnotes:
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